


A Chance of Desire

by dairyme



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, M/M, Manhandling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairyme/pseuds/dairyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>”You know,” said Marsac conversationally, “most people would celebrate by simply getting blind drunk.”</i>
</p><p>  <i>Aramis would have shrugged, if it had been physically possible for him to do so at that point. “You must agree this is more interesting.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance of Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mackem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/gifts).



> [Mackem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem) requested Aramis/Marsac musketeer/criminal roleplay to celebrate Aramis joining the regiment. I attempted to oblige.
> 
> I don't write this kind of thing generally, so (much like Marsac and Aramis) I didn't really know what I was doing, but (much like Marsac and Aramis) I quite enjoyed giving it a go.

Aramis was pushed front-first against the door with enough force to knock the breath out of him, one arm twisted up behind his back and the other pinned against the wood by strong hands on both his wrists. He had only dropped his guard for half a second, but it was enough to lose the advantage. 

Marsac pressed himself along his back, holding him in place with the full length of his body. “Such a disappointment,” he said, and Aramis could feel his lips brush the edge of his ear, “thought a musketeer would put up more of a fight.”

Aramis couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. 

The pressure on his arms eased, and he could hear Marsac’s smile when he spoke. “Too much?” 

“No, it’s…” Aramis grinned as Marsac kissed along the line of his jaw, and turned his head capture his mouth for a moment. “It’s good. Keep going.”

Marsac rearranged his hold and pressed close again. Aramis could feel the heat of his skin, seeping through both their shirts, and the buckle of Marsac’s belt digging into the small of his back. ”You know,” said Marsac conversationally, “most people would celebrate by simply getting blind drunk.”

Aramis would have shrugged, if it had been physically possible for him to do so at that point. “You must agree this is more interesting.”

Marsac smiled and pressed his lips to the back of Aramis’s neck, nosing into his hair. “Hm.”

“And satisfying.” Aramis pulled with the arm being held behind his back and Marsac released it, allowing him to slide his hand down between their bodies, his palm resting at Marsac’s hip. Not exactly where he’d been aiming for, but close enough, and Marsac leaned back a fraction to accommodate the movement.

The instant he did, Aramis twisted out of his hold and used his shoulder to knock Marsac away, sending him stumbling backwards. Aramis turned to face him. ”I haven’t even started yet.” 

Marsac was wearing a ridiculous grin, but attempted to wrestle his expression into something more menacing. “Good. I like a challenge.”

They stood facing each other for a charged moment, each trying to anticipate the other’s move. It was Aramis who broke first, rushing Marsac in an attempt to knock him off balance with his momentum. Marsac was quicker though, angling his body away and catching Aramis round the waist before he could recover.

They struggled briefly, spun round in part by the force of the impact, until Aramis, flailing slightly, managed to get a blow to Marsac’s head with the outside of his forearm.

Marsac let go immediately with a grunt of pain, stepping back and cupping his hand to his cheek. “Mind the face!”

“Damn it – sorry. Let me see.” Aramis went to him and gingerly lifted Marsac’s hand from his cheek. Marsac had taken a punch while breaking up a brawl a few days prior, and been left with a small cut and mild bruising along his left cheekbone as a result. The main concern was that he had reopened the cut, and Aramis was relieved to find this hadn’t happened. “You’re fine.”

Marsac smiled slyly at him then, and by the time Aramis realised his mistake it was too late. Marsac grabbed his wrist and twisted him until he could wrap an arm around his chest from behind. With one arm pinned behind his back, Aramis scrabbled to break Marsac’s hold with his other, but the angle was too awkward to get any leverage. He made a game effort to trip Marsac up as he was dragged towards the bed, but Marsac neatly avoided every attempt. 

They had sparred before, of course, and Aramis had thought them generally evenly matched; they were of a similar build, and if anything Marsac was slightly leaner, though he was also stronger than he looked and quicker than he let on. Aramis knew all this, but it was still an unexpected, entirely welcome surprise to find that he hardly needed to hold back at all for Marsac to comfortably gain the upper hand. 

Marsac shoved him roughly onto the bed, a hand planted heavily between his shoulder blades to hold him down. He straddled Aramis awkwardly, one knee beside his hip, half on and half off the bed. Aramis huffed into the sheets, then turned his head to the side, with some effort, so that he could breathe. 

“Almost too easy,” said Marsac, voice rough with exertion and completely straight-faced, which sent an immediate shock of arousal through Aramis. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted it.”

Aramis made a quiet sound in his throat, a kind of gasping whimper. He couldn’t see Marsac properly from his position, but he felt him shift his weight and move to hold both wrists in one hand. Numerous possibilities swept through his mind, each more appealing than the last. The anticipation was so thrilling he almost didn’t say anything, but thought he should make some contribution in the spirit of things. 

“What are you going to do to me?” He had been aiming for gruff defiance, but it came out ragged. 

Marsac gave a breathy laugh, and Aramis honestly couldn’t tell if it was in character or not. “Whatever I please. Not every day I get a King’s Musketeer beneath me.”

Aramis snorted at that, amused, and heard Marsac chuckle. There was a quiet creak of leather and clink of metal and Aramis was struck by the thrilling possibility that Marsac might just take him then and there, face down on the bed with his legs hanging clumsily over the edge. He pressed his hips into the mattress, seeking friction.

Marsac mirrored the movement where he straddled him, but didn’t begin to undress him as Aramis had expected. Instead Aramis felt his wrists loosely circled with what he quickly realised was the short length of rope Marsac kept at his belt. He didn’t trust himself to speak, and only managed to partially muffle a soft, needy noise in the bedsheets. 

Marsac hesitated, let go of Aramis’s hands and leaned forward until his mouth was close to Aramis’s ear. “Is this all right?” he murmured. 

Aramis nodded, as vigorously as he could with his head at such an awkward angle. “Please,” he said. Marsac smiled, brushed his mouth along Aramis’s cheek and nipped his earlobe before sitting up. 

He made a play of roughness as he bound Aramis’s wrists properly, but he gave Aramis’s hand a fleeting squeeze before standing. Aramis tugged the rope experimentally. The knot held, and the sensation of the rope, coarse and prickly on sensitive skin, provided a jolt of excitement.

“Get up.” Marsac hauled Aramis upright, dragging him off the bed with one arm round his middle and one fisted in the back of his shirt, before pushing him to his knees on the floor. Marsac gave him a soft kick to the leg with side of his boot, and he shuffled back until there was enough room for Marsac to sit on the edge of the mattress in front of him. 

”Look at you.” He ran a hand through Aramis’s hair and gripped it tightly at the back, pulling until Aramis’s face was angled towards him and they could look each other in the eye. “Not a full day in the uniform and already on your knees for someone like me.”

Aramis felt his heart race. He was already uncomfortably hard, and the impatient part of him was desperate to just give in, but if Marsac had been so good as to indulge this request in the first place he thought the least he could do was make a proper go of it. So he pulled against his bonds – tied more securely than he had first thought, and not loosened at all by his efforts – and made a show of jerking his head out of Marsac’s grip. 

The action appeared to catch Marsac by surprise as he let go immediately, but recovered quickly and took hold again. The renewed grip was tight enough to hurt, just a brief, delicious sting as his head was yanked back, but enough to draw a quiet groan from him. 

Marsac had looked as if he were about to speak, but Aramis’s response had made a powerful impact and he instead leaned down suddenly to catch him in a fierce, open-mouthed kiss. 

Aramis strained towards him, rising up on his knees. He managed to get a satisfying bite to Marsac’s lip before he drew away. They grinned breathlessly at each other, Marsac relaxing his fingers in Aramis’s hair. He stole another, softer, kiss before sitting back and sliding his hand to rest firmly on the side of Aramis’s throat, thumb dipped under his jaw. Aramis held his gaze.

“I bet…” There was a slight tremor in Marsac’s voice but he managed to steady it. “I bet you want to touch yourself.”

Aramis’s eyes slipped shut for a moment. He swallowed, and felt Marsac’s thumb against his Adam’s apple. “Yes.”

“Or perhaps you want me to touch you.”

Aramis felt dizzy with the thought. “Yes,” he managed.

Marsac laughed under his breath. “You’re so easy,” he muttered, with a mocking fondness that broke the fantasy briefly before the confident, arch tone returned. “Well, I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen.” He began undoing his belt with his free hand. “I’ll take my pleasure and you will go back to the barracks wishing I had put my hands on you.”

Aramis’s gaze dropped from Marsac’s face to his lap, where he had unfastened his trousers and drawn out his cock. 

Marsac slid his hand from Aramis’s throat to his cheek, pushing his thumb easily between his lips. “I expect you’ve done this before,” said Marsac. “I expect you’re very good at it.”

Aramis glanced up at him and smiled with his eyes. Marsac’s lips twitched in acknowledgement of the shared joke but otherwise stayed in character.

He gripped Aramis’s hair again and guided his head forward. Aramis resisted only slightly, making Marsac push his head down for appearances’ sake. After that he dropped any pretence at reluctance, and Marsac’s hold also noticeably slackened. 

Marsac’s breath hitched as Aramis took him into his mouth. Every tight gasp, every soft sound Marsac made was intimately familiar, and Aramis knew how to coax each one from him.

When Marsac spoke, it was like Aramis had drawn that from him as well. “You enjoy it, don’t you?” 

Aramis looked up at him, though the angle was not ideal for the eye contact he usually enjoyed and he dropped his gaze again after a moment. It was not clear to him to what extent Marsac’s words were performance; from the first time they had done this, Marsac had always shown a particular desire for Aramis to confirm that he gained pleasure from the act. In the circumstances, Aramis was happy to hum his assent.

“I should have…” Marsac gasped a moan as Aramis slid his mouth back up his cock to suck at the head. “I knew as soon as I saw you. Knew that you’d want this. First day on duty and so…so eager to do well.”

Aramis hadn’t been expecting it, a shock of lust wrenching a groan from him. He tugged at the rope again, no act to it this time; if the action had freed him he would have had a hand on himself in an instant.

“Look how hard you are.” Marsac was trembling slightly with the effort not to thrust up into Aramis’s mouth, and the hand not in Aramis’s hair was fisting, white-knuckled, in the bedsheets. ”You could probably come just from this, couldn’t you?”

Aramis squeezed his legs together in the vain hope that it might allow some relief. He shuffled closer, desperate for further physical contact and having to make do with the too-light press of Marsac’s thighs either side of him, and the brush of Marsac’s shirt where Aramis would have preferred bare skin. There was a dull ache in his knees from the hard floor, but somehow it only contributed to his arousal. 

“Next time you see me we’ll both know…how much you wanted this, I could have you any time I like…” He was losing his train of thought, each phrase coming on the back of a groan. His eyes were closed and his head tipped back, and Aramis was fiercely tempted to lean up and suck at the exposed skin there instead, kiss down his neck, dip his tongue in to the hollow at the base of his throat. 

“Perhaps next time I’ll fuck you…” Marsac’s fingers flexed and tightened at Aramis’s nape. “Get you tied down and…dear God, Aramis, that, keep doing that…”

The hand Marsac had until then kept twisted in the sheets came to land on Aramis’s shoulder, gripping the pauldron Aramis had insisted on wearing but which frustratingly meant he couldn’t feel Marsac’s fingers digging in. Marsac came with a low groan, and Aramis matched it. He swallowed reflexively, barely noticing, the closeness of his own orgasm, just out of reach, overwhelming him.

Marsac pushed him gently away by the shoulders. He sat back on his heels and every inch of his skin thrummed, so sensitive that he thought even the barest touch would push him over the edge. 

Marsac looked down at him with intense affection. “Come here.” He helped Aramis to his feet, then onto the bed beside him, both of them clumsy and disorientated. He pushed Aramis onto his back and kissed him deeply. Aramis’s arms were beginning to ache with the pressure of lying on them, but the discomfort was forgotten when Marsac’s hand palmed at his erection through his clothes, and within seconds he was coming, his whole body jerking, moaning helplessly into Marsac’s mouth.

When Aramis eventually opened his eyes Marsac was looking at him with an expression of mild surprise. “I had planned to draw that out a little longer,” he said.

Aramis smiled faintly, fairly certain that he was incapable of any other movement. “Perhaps next time.” 

Marsac grinned and leaned down again, brushing a soft, teasing kiss against his lips.

“I do think,” said Aramis, before the kiss turned could be turned into something more earnest, “that if you don’t untie me soon my inability to hold a sword will be a great hindrance to my new vocation.”

“Oh! Of course.” Marsac sat up immediately and rolled Aramis onto his side before untying the rope. 

Bringing his hands back round to his front was startlingly painful, an ache that stretched right from his wrists to the base of his shoulder blades. He flopped onto his back again with a sigh, stretching his fingers. 

Marsac watched him with some concern. “I’m sorry, I should have thought.” He took Aramis’s hands in his and rubbed them carefully, thumbs smoothing over the bones of his wrists. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Neither have I.” He linked his fingers with Marsac’s, ignoring the residual ache, and encouraged him to lie back down. 

Marsac sighed and closed his eyes. After a moment he said, “I do hope you won’t succumb as quickly when confronted by actual outlaws.”

Aramis laughed, turning his head to look at Marsac. “I doubt any could be so persuasive.”

Marsac still had his eyes closed, but he was smiling. Aramis rolled over to face him, and slid his hand over Marsac’s front, stomach to collarbone, the faint beat of his pulse against his palm. Marsac hummed contentedly. 

Aramis had no inclination to move, and probably not enough strength in his limbs had he chosen to. He thought Marsac might have fallen into a doze, until he opened his eyes and smoothed his hand, slowly, deliberatively, underneath Aramis’s shirt, rucking it up around his chest and leaning over to press light, warm kisses to the exposed skin.

Presently he pulled back, running his hand over the pauldron on Aramis’s shoulder instead. He caught Aramis’s eye and gave him a small, pleased smile.

“I don’t think I would have got it without you, you know,” said Aramis.

Marsac studied his face seriously for a long moment before replying. “You would have.”

Aramis chose not to argue, shifting closer and resting his head against Marsac’s shoulder. 

“On the other hand,” Marsac said, “if in years to come you attain any kind of success and status within the regiment, I now reserve the right to take full credit for it.”

“Is that so.” Aramis propped himself up on his elbows so he could look down at Marsac. “Then I propose that anything you achieve from now on can only be due to having met me.”

Marsac laughed softly before wrapping his arm around Aramis’s back and pulling him close. “I wouldn’t dream of denying it.”


End file.
